Sinnerman

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  Decklan stood still with his jaw propped open wide enough for a little bird to fly in and forge a nest. He wanted to say something, but there were no words. All he managed was a pathetic, “Get off my lawn.”

  Weak.

  “And now I need a moment,” Giovanni said.

  “Let’s just go,” I said.

  Giovanni put his hand on my shoulder. “Sloane, I’ll meet you at the car.”

  I thought about fighting it, but I knew he’d given me my moment to shine and he deserved to have his if he wanted it, though I couldn’t imagine what more needed to be said.

  On my way back to the car, Giovanni sounded off in the distance. I didn’t hear all of what he said, but it started something like: “If you ever come at her like that again, I’ll…” and that got me wondering what I missed after that. I’ll break your fingers…I’ll string you up and dangle you from the edge of the top of a hotel? Or maybe it was something more gangster like he’d bust a cap in his ass. Was that the way gangsters threatened people, and did they even talk like that? All I knew was that I had a protective guard dog that allowed me to do whatever I wanted, and since we’d met, he’d always been there to back me up. I liked my independence, but I couldn’t deny the fact that it was nice to feel protected at the same time. Woof.

  CHAPTER 45

  Sam Reids sat on a somewhat gnarled but thick wooden branch of a tree in his yard; a yard that was one street over from Decklan Reids house. Through his binoculars he watched Sloane scold his father and then some strange man he’d never seen before follow suit. The strange man angered him. He stood close to Sloane. Too close.

  Sam’s attempt to control his emotions had subsided about an hour earlier when Sloane entered his childhood home and then his room. He hadn’t foreseen her level of commitment or what Decklan and his grandmother would tell her about who he was and what had become of him. It didn’t matter. What could they possibly know?

  Sam felt like he should care, but he didn’t. There was just one thing that mattered to him now: Sloane. They could say whatever they wanted. If his own father was too stupid to recognize him when he drove by in his car day after day, Sam was sure any information he offered wouldn’t make the least bit of difference, and they wouldn’t be able to track down his whereabouts. It wasn’t like they’d ever tried anyway. Sam recalled the time he rolled by Decklan on a side street and Decklan actually waved a friendly hello to his neighbor, all the while being too stupid to recognize that neighbor was his own son. It had been over two decades, of course, but just for a split second Sam thought Decklan would be able to identify him for who he was—his son. Except now Sam didn’t see himself like that at all anymore. He wasn’t his son, he was Sam, and his father wasn’t his father—Sam called him by many names; one of them, Decklan.

  Sam purchased the home on the next street when he learned his grandmother moved in with Decklan. She was frail, and there wasn’t much life left in her now, and she needed someone to help look after her. Not that Decklan was ever good at that. Sam was sure it was the other way around and that her moving in would take years from her life instead of adding to them. He watched her sit on his bed for hours and pour over his old photo album. Sometimes she would cry and clutch the album tight to her heart. He liked to see her distraught and unhappy. At least someone missed him.

  Today was the first time Sam felt different about his grandmother. He watched her sit and spill her guts to Sloane and was desperate to know what she’d said. He didn’t like the way it made him feel—like he’d cut himself at a crime scene and left splotches of blood behind. He tried not to panic when Sloane slipped back into his room when no one was looking and stole away his old notebook—the one he wished he hadn’t left behind. It hadn’t mattered until now. No one seemed to notice it was even there. And now Sloane had come along and abducted it from its place of eternal rest. It was unforgivable that she defiled him that way. Those were his private thoughts, the ones no one else should ever see, and she needed to be punished.

  CHAPTER 46

  “Did you get any information from the old woman?” Giovanni said.

  I spent the next several minutes going over what Sinnerman’s grandmother told me and my theory about who he was.

  When I finished he said, “Are you certain about this?”

  I nodded.

  “That boy’s our killer,” I said. “Only he isn’t a little boy anymore. I don’t envy his poor upbringing or what he must have suffered as a child, but it doesn’t excuse him from his actions. You can’t just go around killing people because you hate your mother and the rest of the world.”

  “So where to now?” Giovanni said.

  “I’m sure I won’t score any points with your brother for what I’ve done, but he needs to know all that’s happened.”

  “Let me worry about him, and since it’s late, he can wait until tomorrow.”

  ***

  The next day we parked in front of the last place I wanted to be, and I hoped the backlash of not letting them in on what we’d been doing wouldn’t bite me too hard in the ass. If it did, I didn’t care. It was worth it.

  I pulled the notebook from my bag.

  “What have you got there?” Giovanni said.

  “I found this in the boy’s room. I didn’t want to hand it over until I’d had a chance to look through it.”

  “They’ll want it.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’ve only had the chance to flip through the pages, but it looks like a bunch of scribbled words.”

  “Shove it under the seat,” Giovanni said.

  “What?”

  “Do it—now.”

  I did what he asked, and five seconds later, Giovanni’s brother tapped on the driver side window.

  “What are you two doing here?” Agent Luciana said.

  “Came to see if you had lunch yet.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Care to join us?” Giovanni said.

  “Sure. Let me grab something from my car, and we’ll go.”

  “I need to run Sloane somewhere,” Giovanni said. “Can you meet us in thirty minutes?”

  We set up a place for lunch and then said goodbye.

  “Thanks for the quick save,” I said when Agent Luciana had gone.

  “I didn’t mean to be so firm with you, but there wasn’t time to mince words.”

  “I would have done the same thing,” I said and winked at him. “Let’s run this errand.”

  Giovanni took me to the local office supply store, and I photocopied all the pages in the notebook. Ten minutes later we took our places on the patio of my favorite restaurant in Kimball Junction where Agent Luciana sat in wait.

  “What have you two been up to?” he said.

  Giovanni crossed one leg over the other and behaved like we were a few old friends just passing the time with a casual lunch. I wondered how he stayed so calm all the time. I felt like a freight train was trying to pass through me, and I just wanted to pull on the horn and blurt it all out, consequences or no.

  “I know who Sinnerman is,” I said.

  I hadn’t meant to put myself on blast, but now I’d released it, and there was nothing left to do but press on. Giovanni glanced over to the side at nothing, but I could see the smirk on his face.

  “You’re not serious?” Agent Luciana said.

  “I assure you, she is,” Giovanni said.

  “Are you going to tell me what the two of you have been up to, or do you expect me to sit here and believe it just came to you in the middle of the night?”

  I explained the series of events that took place the day before which started with the discovery of the pink paper at the art school and ended with our trip to Declan Reids’ house.

  “And neither of you thought it would be a good idea to inform me of this before now?” Agent Luciana said. “I can’t believe you, either of you.”

  “I fail to see what the value would have been in dispersing the details until we had something solid to give you,�
�� Giovanni said.

  “And I’m supposed to be fine with that? This is my investigation, Gio. I mean, that’s great that you like this girl but that doesn’t mean you need to lose your head over her.”

  Giovanni slammed his hand down on the table and fragments of bread crumbs shot through the air and landed on the pavement below.

  “Watch yourself, brother,” Giovanni said.

  The two stared each other down for what seemed like a full five minutes even though it couldn’t have been more than one. I’d watched a dog training show once on TV that said to establish dominance when engaged in a stare-off as these two were doing now, never to be the first one to look away; that signaled weakness. The one who held the stare without breaking first became the dominant, the leader. And Agent Luciana might have been angry, but he and I both knew who would be the first to look away.

  Several seconds later, Agent Luciana turned toward me.

  “Can you understand why I’m frustrated?”

  I nodded.

  “I expected it. I never meant to disregard you or your position; I just—”

  “Can’t help yourself?” Agent Luciana said.

  “I know I jump the gun sometimes, but in the past I’ve always felt like everyone wanted to know what information I had, but once I gave it, I was rewarded by being ushered to the sidelines. All that sitting has made my butt sore, and I can’t sit back—not on this one.”

  “I’m not like every detective you’ve worked with,” Agent Luciana said. “Maybe if you gave me a chance, you’d know you could trust me.”

  “That’s just it,” I said. “I don’t trust anyone.”

  “What you’ve told me gives me a lot to look into, but we’re still talking about a simple piece of paper here. There’s no other evidence that he’s our killer.”

  I reached down and picked up the notebook and plopped it down on the tablecloth in front of him.

  “There’s this,” I said.

  I waited for the backlash that I was sure would ensue, but it didn’t.

  “Where’d you find it?” Agent Luciana said.

  “In the boy’s room. No one else knew it was there. It was so dusty when I picked it up I couldn’t even tell what color it was at first. And now that I’ve given you much more than evidence of a match to some silly piece of pink paper, I hope you can use it.”

  CHAPTER 47

  “Blows my mind,” Maddie said. “It must have felt weird to be in that house.”

  “I was fine until I made the connection. And then once I realized where I was—it’s hard to describe. I’m looking at all these pictures of a young innocent kid knowing what he grew up to be. Agent Luciana can run all the tests he wants, he’s the one.”

  “It’s twisted, you know? I mean this guy is one messed-up freak show. To be rejected by everyone around you except your grandmother, that’s harsh.”

  “To a degree, she pushed him away too. It was obvious she had genuine feelings for him, but when it came right down to it, she was too worried about what Decklan wanted than doing what no one else would do—standing up for the boy.”

  “What a nightmare,” Maddie said.

  She glanced at the time on her cell phone.

  “Ooh—I have to go. I’ve got dinner with Wade in an hour.”

  She stood up, grabbed her bag and said, “Give Gio a big kiss for me and tell him I said bye.”

  “Hilarious,” I said.

  “Life’s no fun if I can’t tease you once in a while.”

  ***

  After lunch was over, Agent Luciana got a warrant to search Decklan Reids’ house which I’m sure came as a shock to both him and his mother.

  Surprise—your son grew up to be a fine serial killer, well done, nice job. You don’t just deserve a pat on the back for your achievements in the non-parenting category, you deserve two. Wait a minute while I find my bat so I can give them to you and then we’ll toast to Decklan and Laurel, parents of the year—thirty-plus years running.

  There was this itch I’d tried not to scratch since I left Decklan’s house, an urge to find Samuel’s mother and tell her what her son had become. It passed. I knew my focus was on Sinnerman, and if I still felt the need once I’d found him, I’d make my decision then.

  I sat back on the bed and bent open the copies I’d printed from the notebook. Within its pages were passages that alarmed me.

  My birth was undesirable to her. I wasn’t meant to come into this world.

  She’s dead to me like I am dead to her. Rest in peace Laurel, rest in peace.

  I know why you didn’t want to have me. I don’t belong here. I think of things I am going to do in my mind. Not to you Laurel, but because of you. You drove me to it. You made me and one day I will show you and the rest of the world what I can do. When I look at a woman I only see their hair. Your hair. You sat in front of your mirror and brushed it for hours. Time you could have spent with me.

  It’s what I have to do, and what it’s telling me to do inside me, inside my mind. It’s saying ‘you deserve this’. I want it to go out of my mind, but it can’t.

  I broke the windows in Laurel’s art studio today. I threw rocks and then I watched them shatter. Dad is mad, but he doesn’t know I did it, and he’ll never know because he’s too stupid to think it was me. And then I went to the store and stole some stuff. I just picked out what I wanted and put it in my pocket. It was so easy. I didn’t even need it, I just wanted to do it because no one was watching and I could. I am starting to think I can do anything.

  People will believe anything, especially girls. They’re so easy to manipulate. They seem so innocent, but they aren’t. They act like they’re nice, but just wait until they grow up and have babies. Babies they’ll give away because they can or maybe they’ll have them and then leave, just like Laurel did.

  Everyone in my school wants to be me because I get into the most trouble and I show them all how to do it, how to prank, steal and get away with anything. I’m their king, the person they all look to. They’re my minions and I’m their leader. I’ll lead and you follow, I say. And it works every time.

  My head hurts all the time and I can’t ever sleep. I lie awake in my room at night and think about things I shouldn’t be thinking about and sometimes I wonder if I’m no longer in control of my mind. I’m going to take a tire iron to my dad’s car tomorrow and tell him I saw the kid down the street do it. He doesn’t care about me; he only cares about his money.

  I hid around a corner today while my dad was talking to my gran about me. He said I had to go and she said I could come and live at her house and he said no. He would give me money like he always had and be done with me. He was never a father to me anyway so I’ll take it and I’ll never come back. Neither one of them will ever see me again.

  Yea, the light of the wicked shall be put out and the spark of his fire shall not shine. Job 18 and 5.

  When I read the last passage, all I could think about was how the light of the wicked would be put out. The difference was, that light would be his, and I planned to be the one to put it out—forever.

  I folded the pages up and stuck them in the side-table drawer and then wandered through the house and found Giovanni outside on his back deck with a Robert B. Parker novel in his hand and Lord Berkeley at rest by his side. There was one thing different about Lord Berkeley though. Someone had dressed him up in a double-breasted suit with a velvet jacket over the top. He looked ridiculous and hot, and I imagined any minute he would turn around and say Holmes was his new name, and that I could call him Sherlock.

  I tried not to show my disapproval and faced Giovanni and said, “I didn’t know you liked to read.”

  He folded the cover flap over a page and closed it and looked up at me.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  That was an understatement.

  He assessed Lord Berkeley and said, “Not my idea. It was my sister. She couldn’t help herself. I can pull it off if you like; I can tel
l you’re not a fan.”

  “I’m sure it cost her a fortune, so I expect it will be fine to leave it on him a little longer. What are you reading?”

  “Looking for Rachel Wallace. I’ve found myself rereading some of his old works since he passed last year.”

  “I like period novels—Austen, Bronte, Dickens, that type of thing,” I said. “I’ve collected books for years.”

  “A fellow reader. We have more in common all the time.”

  I sat down beside him.

  “I feel like there’s still so much I don’t know about you. It’s strange just being here. I mean, we’ve only really known each other for a couple weeks.”

  He leaned forward and said, “What is it you’d like to know—you can ask me anything.”

  It was an offer I couldn’t refuse.

  “I’ve watched you around your brother, with the men that lurk around here, and you have this massive house with all kinds of security and it seems everyone looks to you for answers, and then there’s your car and all this other stuff you own, and every room in this house is decorated with expensive things, and you—”

  He reached for my hand and folded it inside both of his.

  “What do you want to ask me?”

  I wanted to take five and prolong the moment, but it was here—and it was now or never.

  “Are you the head person like a boss guy—some kind of don or something? I’ve seen stuff on TV, but you don’t wear a ring, and in the movies the people kiss the ring and since you don’t have one, I don’t know if that’s true, or if I’m crazy, or…”

  I felt so stupid when the words poured out of my mouth, and I was sure the constant twitch in my leg wasn’t helping things either.

  He released my hand and leaned back and acted like I’d just asked him how he took his coffee.

  “I have many people I look after, including my own family—but no ring.”